[Shuddering]
there comes up before me the bleeding body of my mother, the cold, fiendish face of the Russian officer, supervising the slaughter——
VERA
DAVID [Hysterically]
Oh, that butcher's face—there it is—hovering in the air, that narrow, fanatical forehead, that——
PAPPELMEISTER [Brings down his umbrella with a bang]
Schluss! No man ever dared break down under me. My baton will beat avay all dese faces and fancies. Out with your violin!
[He taps his umbrella imperiously on the table.]
Keinen Mut verlieren!